


Bedside Manner

by Gnb_rules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sam makes brief appearance, Sick Castiel, establishing destiel, just a guy taking care of another guy with a cold, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnb_rules/pseuds/Gnb_rules
Summary: Human (Again) Cas gets a cold. Dean takes care of him and tries not to think about why he enjoys it so much. Flimsy excuses to be sweet to one another are abound.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 144





	Bedside Manner

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at ff.net. I will likely be cross-posting the rest of my SPN fics here sometime soon, as well as anything I write in the future. Reviews always appreciated!

Dean wakes in the early morning to the sound of a familiar voice saying his name. It is only because of its warm familiarity that he does not bolt up in a panicked rage, gun out and ready. Still, it's early enough to grouse. "Cas, this better be good, dammit," he mumbles, eyes still stubbornly closed.

"There's – there's something wrong with me, Dean."

That snaps his eyes open immediately, a flame of fear suddenly licking at his insides. Dean sits up and looks at Cas with a worried frown. The former angel, however, seems relatively fine except perhaps a littler paler than usual. "What's wrong?" Dean demands.

"My throat is on fire. My nose won't stop dripping with mucus and my head is pounding and everything just…hurts. Something is wrong."

Dean chuckles with relief. "Cas, that's just a cold, man. Did you never have one the first time you were human?"

Cas's eyes widen in alarm. "No, are you telling me this happens often?"

Dean shrugs a little. "I don't know, maybe once or twice a year for me? More for some people, less for others."

Cas focuses an intense gaze on Dean, who fights back a shiver at the look. "How do we cure this?"

Dean shrugs again. "There isn't exactly a cure, Cas. It usually only lasts a couple days and you just tough it out. We do have some cold medicine that'll help, and some cough drops for your throat. And you need to rest."

Dean gets up, heads to his medicine cabinet, and pulls out the aforementioned cold syrup and lozenges. He hands them to Cas. "Couple spoonfuls of this may help your nose situation," he explains. "Now go back to bed and I'll help you get set up."

Cas gives him a questioning look, but Dean just smiles. "Go," he commands, and Cas shuffles back out to his room.

* * *

Dean meets him there about ten minutes later, arms full of supplies. He sets down his laptop, which is open to Netflix, and places it down next to Cas on the bed. Then he sets down the glass of water and box of tissues on the side table, along with a plastic bag.

"Bag is for used tissues, so you don't germ this place up more than necessary, alright?"

Cas nods, eyes glazed and miserable, and something about that makes Dean just want to…just wrap him up or something. He resists the urge.

"Maybe in a little bit you can shower and I'll put on some soup for lunch? It's good for colds."

Cas meets his eyes, squints a little. "Thank you, Dean. I'm not used to being cared for – it's refreshing."

Dean feels heat in his cheeks. "Don't make it weird," he says, "but yeah, you're welcome." Then he goes to see what type of soup options they have in the kitchen, while Cas scrolls through his Netflix choices.

* * *

As it turns out, they had no soup, so Dean went out for a run. He's back in thirty minutes and unloading his stock when Sam comes into the kitchen.

Having not known what type of soup Cas would like, there's about ten different cans spread out on the counter. So Dean's not that surprised when Sam jokes, "Starting a soup kitchen?"

"Haha," says Dean. "Cas has a cold."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Playing doctor? Cute."

Dean takes it in stride. "He's new at this, alright?"

"I'm kidding, Dean. It's a nice thing to do for him." Sam's look of open sincerity is too much, and Dean suddenly thinks he'd prefer the teasing.

* * *

Dean checks in on Cas again. He's laying there propped up against pillows and gazing rather uninterestedly at some movie playing on the screen in front of him. He still looks pale and miserable. His hair is wet though, so he must have made it to the shower at some point after all.

"Cas, I didn't know what soup you'd like. We have chicken noodle, split-pea, tomato, chicken and dumpling…"

Cas smiles at him. "Thank you, Dean, but you've done enough. I think I can manage from here. I'm not entirely incapacitated, after all."

He tries to get up but Dean pushes him back down with a warm hand to his chest. "You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you infect the whole kitchen."

Cas's eyes are certainly more dull than normal, but an unusual playfulness suddenly sparks in them anyway. "Then this may be a bad time to tell you that I accidentally sneezed on your computer."

Dean could be mad but it's such a Cas thing to admit that he snorts with laughter instead. "I'll make you Lysol-wipe it before you give it back. Now, which soup?"

"Chicken and dumpling," Cas answers, reluctantly settling back against his pillows.

Dean nods. "Coming up," he says.

When he returns ten minutes later with the soup and some crackers on a tray, Cas has a tissue shoved squarely up his left nostril. He glowers at Dean slightly. "I used to be an Angel of the Lord."

Dean shakes his head. "Well, buddy, now you're an Angel of Snot."

He's not particularly surprised when Cas is too annoyed to thank him for the meal.

* * *

Dean decides to leave Cas alone for a bit, mostly because he knows there's not much else he can do for him and partly because he doesn't want Cas to think he's pitying him or something lame. That's not what this is.

He's just trying to make life easier for a sick friend is all.

He does check on him a bit before bed that night, though, just in case he needs anything. "How's it going, Cas?"

"My throat has stopped hurting," he reports. "But I can no longer breathe through my nose at all."

"Oh. That sucks."

Cas rolls his eyes. "Goodnight, Dean."

"Night, Cas."

* * *

Two hours later and Dean can't sleep because Cas can't sleep. He can hear the former angel's hacking coughs from all the way down the hall. They sound painful as hell, and Dean's heart is twisting at the sound.

And it's stupid, really stupid, because he knows he can't help Cas and he knows it's just a cold, but he finds himself heading towards Cas's room anyway. His eyes are fairly well-adjusted to the dark by now, so he doesn't bother turning on any lights, not wanting to wake Sam. He knocks lightly on Cas's door.

A pause, followed by a hoarse cough, followed by, "Come in."

Dean steps inside and looks towards the bed, where he can see the rough outline of Cas in the dark. He thinks he can see the former angel's eyes reflecting back at him as well. "It's me."

"Dean? Something wrong?"

"I just – not doing so well, huh?"

"…You heard me from your room. I'm sorry I've kept you awake."

"Don't apologize, Cas, you can't help it. Anything I can do?"

"You said humans just have to tough it out til it's over, right? I'm toughing it out."

Dean edges closer to the bed so he can better see Cas's face. He feels a weight in his chest and a pull he can't explain. "Do you miss it?" he asks before he can stop himself. "Being an angel?"

Cas coughs again, spastically bringing a tissue up to cover his mouth. After recovering, he says, "It was certainly more convenient. Especially with full power and wings – flight, near invincibility, and none of these mundane human aches and illnesses…"

Dean feels his heart sink for a reason he doesn't quite understand. Of course Cas misses being an angel, why wouldn't he?

"There are some things about humanity that I'd hate to give up, though."

Dean swallows around a lump in his throat. "Yeah? Like?"

"Everything is more real when you're human, Dean. The colors, sounds, tastes, of course. And…the feelings."

Dean doesn't have anything to say to that. He's spent an entire lifetime trying to shut most feelings off. It very rarely works, of course. And it's never worked at all in regard to Castiel.

He can feel Cas watching him, and finally Dean says, "Listen, you can't sleep and I can't sleep with you coughing up a lung. And I know you should rest but laying here tossing and turning isn't going to accomplish that."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Where'd you put my laptop? Let's watch a movie."

A pause and then, "Okay."

There's a shuffle of movement, blankets shifting and the sound of a plastic bag being set on the floor. A slight creak of the laptop hinge and then Cas is aglow in the eerie light of the screen.

Dean realizes too late that he didn't think this entirely through, didn't consider the fact that the only logical place from which to watch a movie in this scenario is right beside Cas on the bed.

Cas, however, doesn't seem to give it a second thought and is already sliding to one side of the mattress to make room for Dean. Throat dry, Dean lays down and chooses not to slip under covers, even though there's a bit of a draft and he's getting goosebumps.

"What's your password?"

"Let me do it," says Dean, reaching for the computer, but Cas pulls it away from him.

"Dean, there's already like a 90% chance I get you sick from this. Stop touching everything and just tell me your damn password."

Dean's glad the light is low, he can feel heat rushing to his cheeks. "It's pieguy79," he mumbles.

Cas chuckles and Dean softens slightly – a little embarrassment is always worth making Cas laugh. He types in the password. Netflix is still open from earlier, and the two lean forward to peruse the options.

"Back to the Future?" Cas suggests.

"Nah, I'm kind of over time travel right now. What about All Saint's Day?"

"No. All the screaming will make my headache worse."

"Do you need some aspirin? I have some in my medicine cabinet -" he says, already moving to get up. Cas stops him with a hand around his wrist.

"No, don't leave. I'm fine. Just, no horror movies, alright?"

Dean wonders if Cas can feel his pulse quicken at his touch. He tries not to think about it.

"What about this?" asks Cas, pointing to the lower left of the screen. He glances at it, then back to Cas. "You want to watch The Princess Bride?"

He shrugs. "Metatron gave me the knowledge of it. It sounds highly amusing and relaxing, but I've never had the pleasure of watching it for myself."

"It's good," Dean admits. "We can watch it, if you want."

Cas nods and hits play. Dean once again settles back against the pillow and turns his eyes to the movie. For awhile it's pretty quiet together as they watch the classic tale of high adventure and true love.

But Cas sniffles throughout and, halfway through, has to pause it for another fit of coughing. Once again, Dean can't help but feel an ache in his chest at Cas's mild distress (even knowing he's suffered far worse in the past). There is this crazy urge to comfort him, and Dean can't resist pressing a hand to his back and rubbing a slow circle there.

Cas tenses slightly and Dean hastily pulls back. _What the hell are you doing,_ Dean thinks to himself.

But then Cas is staring at him, eyeing him like he's something new and unexpected. "It's chilly in here," he says after moment. "Aren't you cold?"

Yes, yes he is. The bunker's internal heating system is loud and gives off an unpleasant burning smell, so they haven't been using it of late, and the space heaters they have in various rooms do very little for the bunker overall due to its sheer size.

He considers going to grab the heater from his room when Cas says quietly, "We can share the blankets if you want. I don't mind."

Dean swallows, not sure how to explain to Cas that sharing a bed to watch a movie is one thing, but sharing sheets is another matter entirely. It's too close, too intimate, and probably not something you should do with your best friend.

Guys don't do that.

But Dean _is_ cold, and the space heater in his room feels _far,_ and Cas said he didn't mind, so what, _exactly_ , is the problem?

Dean caves. He lifts his weight up slightly and shoves the blankets out from under him, just to pull them back over his body. He brings them up to his waist and settles back in. Cas is still on his side of the bed, a solid half a foot of space between them, yet Dean can still feel the warmth of him radiating from that side of the mattress.

It's oddly inviting.

They resume the movie. They watch Westley return from the dead and Inigo avenge his father. They watch Buttercup and Westley finally reunite and Fezzik save the day with four white horses.

"As you wish," the grandfather says to close out the movie. The credits play and Dean smiles over at Cas, only to realize that the former angel is definitely asleep. Not exactly in a cute way, either, given that his mouth is hanging wide open. Dean assumes it's probably because his nose is still stuffed as hell.

Dean reaches over and gently pulls the laptop off of Cas's lap, trying not to wake him. He closes it with a quiet snap and sets it down under his side of the bed.

Speaking of which, he really needs to get up and go back to his own room.

But.

This bed is warm and soft and his own feels further away than ever. Plus, what if Cas wakes up and needs him? Like, to get him aspirin or tissues or…something?

It's a flimsy excuse, Dean knows it, and for once he doesn't care. He's already under the covers, crossing one more line tonight isn't going to kill either of them.

He settles deeper into the blankets, but makes sure to respect the space between them. Faster than he could have imagined possible, he's falling asleep to the sound of Cas's somewhat awkward breathing.

* * *

It's the best sleep he's ever had, and it's with great reluctance that Dean opens his eyes the next morning.

Blue eyes stare back at him from the other pillow. There's something so soft about Cas right now, in the early morning, with bed head and warm blankets surrounding them both. Dean feels his own nerves vibrate in his every cell, in every fiber of his being.

They have awoken together, beside each other, and something has changed. A cosmic tilt in the universe.

Cas's voice is full of quiet surprise. "You stayed."

Dean resists the fight or flight instinct that has become so natural to him. He resists the urge to joke it off. The moment is too heavy, it means too much, and they both know it. "I stayed," Dean agrees, a whisper between them. Dean reaches out tentatively to place a hand to Cas's cheek. He prays that it's the right move; everything feels fragile, tenuous, and for once in his life, Dean just wants to hold onto _this._

Apparently it is the right thing, because Cas closes his eyes and literally leans/nuzzles into his touch and good lord, when did he become so temptingly kissable?

"You look a little better," Dean says, sliding his thumb across soft skin.

"I feel a little better," he replies, "I guess a good night's sleep can work wonders."

Cas smiles softly at him and Dean is lost. It cannot be helped, cannot be stopped.

Dean closes the gap between them and then he's kissing Cas, sweet and slow and soft. Cas melts into it for a few moments, but then pulls away, frowning. "You shouldn't have done that," he says.

Dean feels a lightning bolt of fear course through him. Did Cas not want to? Has he just monumentally screwed up their friendship?

Cas seems to read the anxiety on his face. "No, I mean, because you're going to get sick now," he explains.

Dean laughs in relief. "Hate to break it to you, Cas, but I'm already sick. My throat's been burning since I woke up. But guess what?"

"What?" he asks, squinting in the way that's _so Cas_.

Dean slides his arm around Cas and presses closer until their bodies are warm against each other. He leans over to whisper in his ear. "Totally worth it," he says, and kisses him again.


End file.
